My Dad was a research scientific glassblower. He had trained after he returned from serving in the war and after many years as an apprentice went to work for an oil company in their refinery.

As a young girl I was mesmerised when I would spend hours with Dad in the garden shed as he made all different objects in glass. He would normally be making atomisers by the dozen, something he did to help pay for the very old car he and Mum had managed to buy. It was always going wrong and to pay all the garage bills Dad would take on extra work in the evenings and on weekends.

In his shed he had shelves filled with glass of all different colours and would make small ornaments for us. He’d ask us what we’d want and we’d excitedly shout out cat or dog or horse and within minutes the glass would be transformed into funny little characters. Even with his large hands Dad would craft the most beautiful intricate glass furniture for our dolls house and tiny glass coat hangers for our dolls clothes. It was always like magic to me, watching him heat the glass in the flame and then with various tools he would pull it into different shapes, sometimes blowing into it at the same time. It was wonderful and I loved our time together in the shed and the strange smell that only a glass blowing room has. For fun, Dad would blow very fine glass bubbles, they would waft up into the air and were so fragile that you could put your fingers through them and they would virtually disappear. Dad made beautiful gifts for friends and relatives and everyone would be in awe that he had made them in the shed. If he had not had the responsibility of a family and the need for a regular income I am sure he would have preferred to spend his time creatively rather than working with all the technical glass blowing at the refinery.

When I attended a spiritualist church in London many years later, there was a young man, Martin, giving his very first inspired talk. You could tell he was extremely nervous and I had even seen him pacing up and down in the hallway before he had to take his place on the platform. He needn’t have worried at all as his talk was very good. You could tell that the congregation was hanging on his every word and you could have heard a pin drop.

I noticed his aura expanding whilst he spoke and could see a vague outline of what appeared to be someone standing to the right side of him. I turned around and looked behind me to see if it could be a shadow or a play of the light, but everyone was sitting down and there were no obvious light sources. The medium on the platform was sitting to the left of Martin so I couldn’t see where this could be coming from. As he continued speaking I noticed an odd movement to the right hand side of him. There was a white-painted handrail with railings beneath which ran along the length of the platform and Martin was standing behind them and occasionally leaning on them. To my absolute amazement I could see the outline of someone leaning on the rail far to the right, and the more I looked the more form the shape took. Eventually I could see it was a man, a little taller than Martin, and surprisingly, he looked as if he was made of the glass bubbles that my Dad used to make. He was shiny and transparent! It seemed an age that he was there, leaning on the handrail looking at everyone. I kept blinking to clear my vision because I just couldn’t really believe what I was seeing. When Martin sat down the man was no longer visible and the service went on as normal. However, when Martin stood again to say the closing prayer I could clearly see the man again. It was an experience that I know I will never forget. I spoke to Martin afterwards and asked him if he was aware of anyone standing near him but he said he wasn’t. I did very much feel that this may have been a spirit who was there to assist him.

As time went on, and as I saw various mediums working, I began to see more and more outlines on walls behind them which would gradually form into ‘glass’ people. Often it would be quite vague but sometimes I could make out distinct features, even clothes that were being worn and very often the medium would then give that as a description of the spirit communicator.

When I had been away from my mediumship for several years it appeared that this ‘gift’ of seeing spirit on walls or ‘glass’ people had all but disappeared. I was chatting to some friends last summer and saying what a great shame that was. Then, much to my surprise, when I attended a local spiritual workshop I was sitting watching another medium demonstrate when I began to see the familiar outline slowly appearing on the wall behind her. I was thrilled! As we worked that day the visions became clearer until I could actually use the vision as the basis for one of my readings when I was called to stand up and demonstrate. I saw a ‘glass’ man leaning on a very old country gate and could see the countryside around him. Strangely I was also shown the most massive womans breast, which took up most of the wall, and I knew that he was connected to someone who had breast cancer. I was fortunate enough to be told his name, which is something I always ask for but don’t always get. I described him and the connection to the breast cancer and gave his name and immediately a woman could accept him and my communication with him strengthened. I was so grateful that I was able to give the recipient a good message from her loved one.

I often think of the ‘glass’ people I have seen and having spoken to several other mediums it does seem quite rare and I do wonder if watching my Dad making his glass bubbles all those years ago somehow stirred that gift in me. Thanks Dad!

I had just published my last post, 43) Interconnectedness, and whilst waiting for my toast to cool down, I was reading an email that had just arrived in my inbox. It was from Global One TV. I clicked on the link to look at their site and was drawn to take a look at the information about a film which has been made by Tom Shadyac. He directed many well-known entertaining films including The Nutty Professor, Bruce Almighty and Liar, Liar.

The film he has made is a million miles away from his previous genre. I AM is a film he began to make after he was badly injured in a cycling accident and had begun to question his life, and to face the prospect of his own mortality. He wanted to investigate what is wrong with our world and what we can do to change it. He travelled extensively and, with a small film crew of only four, he interviewed several leading authorities on everything from science to psychology, from the environment to philosophy. He spoke to many many people in his search for answers including Bishop Desmond Tutu and Lynne McTaggart, the best-selling author whose work involves the linking of science and spirituality and the realism of quantum physics.

What he found was that there was a lot more right with the world than he ever thought before. I watched the trailer for the movie and was blown away by the references to the connectedness of us all, of everything we know.

I’m hoping to get to see the whole film …. and my hope is that more and more people, globally, realise the huge impact that we, as individuals, are capable of making to enhance the world we live in, through our interconnectedness!

On Tuesday nights I watch ‘Touch’, a fictional supernatural programme starring Keifer Sutherland who plays Martin, a widower, and who is the single father of a young boy, Jake, who is emotionally challenged.

Martin is unable to make any kind of connection with Jake who has never spoken a word and will not allow anyone to touch him. Jake lives in his own world but he is obsessed with numbers and can see both the past, present and future through the connections that the numbers make. I have always felt that we are all connected, that we are all from the creator, or as some would say, from source, or from God. I find the series fascinating with its insight into synchronicity and the realisation for the father, Martin, that there are no such things as coincidences.

On Monday I had received an email from a woman in America who has been reading my blogs. She asked me if I could help her in advising how she could receive spiritual healing. She had, she felt, been the victim of a con man who had charged her quite a large amount for supposedly healing her. She needed someone she could trust and had asked spirit for guidance and they had told her to contact me! I wasn’t feeling too well on Tuesday, so I didn’t reply to her straight away, but sent an email telling her I would email her again on Wednesday.

Tuesday night I settled down to watch Touch. This weeks episode wasn’t so much about numbers, but more about a pattern within a cats cradle that Jake kept making with wool. Martin, his father, had to try to place the pattern and work towards connecting people who were associated with it. All sounds rather odd if you haven’t been watching Touch, but in the programme it all made perfect sense. The important part of the pattern was two triangles which kept appearing in different guises and always made a connection with people, even across continents.

On Wednesday morning I was lying in bed, thinking of the email I had received and how I could possibly help someone who lived so far away – over 4,000 miles – when I happened to look out of my bedroom window. I just couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a perfect cross in the sky. It was exactly the pattern that Jake had been showing his father which connected everyone! I knew there and then that the distance between us meant nothing spiritually.

That in itself, was, synchronistically speaking, quite amazing. Later on Wednesday I was chatting to a wonderful friend of mine, Jane, who is both a gifted medium and healer. She was telling me about a workshop she had recently attended which was teaching a new way of healing, it was about a system called The Healing Code. I looked it up on the internet and saw that there was a book available and downloaded it to my kindle. Having read a few chapters I thought it would make sense for the lady in America to read it too. I emailed her and sent her a link to the book. At the same time I agreed to send her spiritual healing myself, and as I was typing her email I was covered in goosebumps which to me shows that I am certainly make the right decision.

The following day I received another email from her. On Wednesday she had gone and bought a book, The Power, the follow-up book to The Secret. It wasn’t the one I had been reading, but it included reference to the same man who had written the book I had advised her to buy! He was the only MD featured in the popular DVD of The Secret. Neither of us could believe it!! There we are, me living here in England and her in America, and of all the books in the world, she buys a book that includes a reference to the very same man. What are the chances of that? More synchronicity.

I feel that spirit has shown me this week, in more than one way, that we are all truly connected. We arranged that today I would send the lady spiritual healing. As I sat at a pre-arranged time I was again covered in my familiar goose-bumps and as I asked my healing guides to draw close and send healing to the lady I felt the most wonderful connection.

I owe God an apology. Well in fact it’s an apology both to God and Jesus. It’s an apology from myself and also on behalf of my twin sister Tina, as we were in cahoots at the time, so I hope they will accept this from both of us.

When we were about eleven years old, Mum was, spiritually speaking, trying to finding her way. From my earliest memories I remember Mum trying various religions. Some she would really get involved in and others she would dismiss very quickly. She was a natural medium, but even with the knowledge that spirit is energy and so, ever-lasting, she was still searching for the meaning of life and felt that ‘somewhere’, ‘ out there’ she would find it.

She was working as a secretary for an airline in Hounslow, Middlesex, close to Heathrow Airport, and it was there that she met another secretary, Jean. Jean was a staunch member of the Plymouth Brethren Church. Unfortunately for us, Mum thought that this religion might be the one that we should all take on board. All, meaning Mum and Tina and myself, as Dad would never step foot inside a church and by that time our older brother,Ray, was more into becoming a hippy and playing his guitar than wanting to find himself embroiled in some religious activities.

Jean belonged to a small Plymouth Brethren church that Tina and I attended with Mum on a few occasions. The whole place was very understated and to me felt totally flat. There was no atmosphere at all, no feeling of joyous celebrations of life, just really boring sermons, uncomfortable chairs and self-righteous middle-aged ladies, faces scrubbed clean and dressed in drab neat boring clothes. They had such strict rules which basically meant that if you were to become one of them you wouldn’t be able to have much fun at all. I couldn’t help but wonder why Mum was at all interested in this very odd religion, but I think that the stranger it appeared, the more Mum thought there must be something to it. I am also sure that Jean felt that she could somehow change Mum, give her ‘real’ values and that she would throw away her makeup bag, her fashionable clothes, and become just like Jean – a mouse of a woman who spent her life adhering to the strictest of religious rules. Jean must have been very persuasive to get Mum to even consider joining.

Jean asked Mum if Tina and I would like to go on a Plymouth Brethren holiday and she had said yes. Mum told us that it would be really good fun and that she felt we hadn’t given the church much of a chance. Reluctantly we agreed to go, after all, we thought, it might be ok because it meant that we would be away on holiday just the two of us for the very first time. We really thought that it couldn’t possibly be that bad!

We had never been camping before and this was a holiday in big tents, so we really were quite excited as we packed our tee shirts and shorts and swimming costumes. I remember feeling so grown up as I carried my own suitcase onto the coach. The holiday was at a campsite at Brean Sands in Somerset, right beside the sea. To me as a child, a seaside holiday meant making sand castles, sunbathing, sticks of rock, chips and fizzy drinks, , swimming in the sea, playing in penny arcades and donkey rides. I imagined us all sitting round a camp fire at night singing jolly songs.

When we arrived we were all shown to our tents with our allotted sleeping bags already laid out on the ground. It didn’t look at all comfortable! There was a large wooden cabin were we all had to meet up for meals and for ‘meetings’. The lady in charge was called ‘Captain’, I would think she was in her mid fifties and wore a rigid black suit with a high neck buttoned white blouse, not your usual holiday clothes at all. She looked like a sergeant major to me and I had an uneasy feeling about her from the off. It was obvious she already knew lots of the other children and her tight-lipped stern expression only softened into a smile when she was addressing those she knew. The rest of us were greeted with a scowl and a look of disdain. Not the best welcome to a week-long holiday.

After sorting out our clothes we had to go the cabin for our tea. Captain sat at the top table and before we’d even eaten a sandwich she was standing up calling from a register and issuing your orders for the week. When she came to Tina and I she told us that we were on latrine duty. I had no idea what a latrine was but soon found out. Basically we were going to be toilet attendants for the week. Somehow that did not thrill us.

After tea we were told that the Bible verse for the week was John 10, verse 10. ‘The thief cometh not, but that he may steal, and kill, and destroy: I came that they may have life, and may have it abundantly’. Captain explained that what that meant was that we were all sinners and unless we behaved ourselves and repented that we would not go to heaven. I was really worried, because I knew that I wasn’t always good and had sometimes been naughty. I was convinced that there was no way I was ever going to be able to get into heaven. That first night when I went to sleep, in my sleeping bag on the lumpy ground, I was trying so hard not to cry because I really thought I was going to be in such trouble with God.

The following morning after breakfast (and prayers …. lots of prayers) Tina and I had to carry out our latrine duties for the first time. The loos were dreadful. Everything smelt of jeyes fluid and the brushes for cleaning the toilet bowls had seen better days. It was not a pleasant task. I can’t begin to explain the state of some of the seats …. I still don’t know how they ever got like that. We had though been told that we would off on a bus to go to the beach for the rest of the day, so that was something we could really look forward to.

We all went and waited at the bus stop with our swimming costumes and towels full of happy thoughts for the day ahead. The bus arrived, complete with some local passengers and on we all got. Much to our absolute horror, Captain got everyone singing hymns. “S-A-V-I-O-U-R- we want you all to know, you’re the one, the only one who saves from sin (saves from sin), if in him, you will believe, his pardon you’ll receive”, etc etc. I felt a total fool with everyone staring at us. I had no option but to get used to it, because it happened everyday for the whole week. I just kept thinking that no-one would know Tina and I and at least we weren’t singing hymns on a bus where we lived.

Even on the beach the theme of the week continued. We were dispatched to sandcastle making teams. It was all very formal and efficient. Each team was given a passage from the bible that you had to make into a sand sculpture. My team had the verse ‘For narrow is the gate, and straitened the way, that leadeth unto life, and few be they that find it.’ Captain explained that in order to get into heaven we had to walk along the narrow path , but that most of us walked a wider path. There was that threat again. Behave … or else! There was no swimming, no boat rides, no ice creams. No fun at all.

To me, even at that young age, I felt that their whole philosophy was one of fear. So it went on through the whole week. I really wasn’t sleeping very well and both Tina and I cried ourselves to sleep every night because our worries were growing by the day. I made the massive mistake of asking Captain if we would be able to go to the pier and the fun fair. My goodness, she was not happy with me at all. I was told that I was sinful to want to go against the teachings of the bible. Then to top it off Tina and I were severely reprimanded by Captain, in front of everyone, because we were found walking across a field towards a donkey derby, which we were told, was strictly against God. That’s it, I thought, I’ve totally had it now. I was convinced that I was going to hell.

It was becoming an increasingly miserable time apart from every night, after the sermon, when other children were standing up telling how they had found Jesus or God. Everyone would be clapping and they would then become an accepted member of the group. It was obvious to us that there were very few left who hadn’t found Jesus, and we were definitely among those few! It also appeared that those people who had just found God or Jesus were given the better jobs within the camp. People who had been on rubbish patrol would be moved to cutlery placing, those on washing up were put on bread and butter service. It seemed that was the only way to get ahead. Tina and I reckoned that as we were already in so much trouble and we were going to go to hell anyway, we would hatch a plan to get out of latrine duties!

The following evening, after we had cleaned the loos before supper, we had our course of action in place. After we had eaten and said more prayers, and Captain had given us all yet another lengthy sermon on behaving, we stood up in unison. We told her we had found Jesus behind the cabin. She did look a little stunned, but managed a very small smile and everyone started clapping wildly. “The twins have found Jesus”, “the twins have found Jesus” they exclaimed excitedly! People gathered round us and hugged us. Suddenly we were no longer the outsiders, we were part of the group.

The next morning after breakfast we were given new instructions for the rest of the week . No longer did we have to clean the loos, we were told we would be in charge of handing out breakfast cereals and porridge. We had certainly been promoted. Our plan had worked! Then, the dreaded guilt set in. The realisation of the lies we had told and the total certainty of an everlasting life in hell really took its toll on both of us. We couldn’t wait to get home to talk to Mum and Dad. We were praying they could somehow fix everything with Jesus and God.

Thankfully the time to go home eventually arrived. Even now, forty-five years later, I remember how long that week felt. Mum and Dad met us at the coach station and had expected to be meeting two very happy sun tanned girls. Instead we got off the coach and just fell into their arms crying. Through sobs we told them that we were going to hell. We really were distraught. They asked us to explain what had happened and after we had, they told us there was no way in the world we would be going to hell. Dad really was quite cross that anyone could put such fear into children but was laughing uncontrollably when we told him about us finding Jesus behind the cabin. Mum explained that God is love and that there is no way in the world that God would want anyone to be frightened of him. Quite seriously it took months for Tina and I to get over the fears that had been instilled in us that week. Mum, thankfully, decided not to go to the church with Jean ever again and was very pleased when Jean moved offices!

Now, as an older woman, with many years of life’s experiences under my belt, I feel that the higher spirit, the creator of our universe, is as Mum said, pure love. Of that I have absolutely no doubt. I tend to follow my own spiritual pathway and rarely become involved in anything termed as ‘religion’, although I pray every night, and happily pray with friends.

I believe with all my heart that we all share a creator, no matter the title that anyone or any group may give to this divine spirit, and that this creator would never want to threaten or frighten, but instead would wish to instill love and compassion and empathy in all those who live.

I do still wonder whether the other children on that holiday were as frightened as we were. A whole week of being indoctrinated is pretty hard for an adult, never mind a young child. Thank goodness Tina and I had each other and parents who showed us, through example and guidance, what a wonder our creator truly is. I do though still wish to apologise for telling the lie about finding Jesus behind the cabin. Quite possibly (hopefully) God and Jesus had a good laugh about it. I am hoping they have a good sense of humour!

Goose bumps provoked by a fresh breeze. Photo taken in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I was a very young girl I was always aware of energies around me because, when they were about, I experienced head to toe goosebumps. I would happily be walking down the stairs and then suddenly …. whoosh … there they were … and I would be terrified!

From when I was 9 years old we lived in a typical 1930’s semi-detached three bedroom house in Twickenham, outer London. When Mum and Dad first bought the house it was very dowdy and when we arrived I thought it was really spooky. Full of dark colours and with drab curtains hanging at the windows, I wasn’t at all impressed. I’d have given anything to go back to the modern houses we had lived in when we were living in Essex before Dad had been transferred from Shell Haven, near Southend, to the Shell laboratories in Egham, Surrey. Mum though was thrilled to be living back near London and her relatives, and Dad was really happy as his transfer was also a step up the career ladder.

My twin sister, Tina, and I had to share the back bedroom which was decorated with wallpaper that was supposed to be ‘stone-wall effect’. Why anyone would ever want that in a bedroom I had no idea. It was horrid! Mum and Dad had the large double room overlooking the green at the front of the house, my brother Ray had a small single room and we all shared a pretty awful stark and very chilly bathroom. Downstairs was a sitting room with a dark wood panelled dining room at one end and a fairly small kitchen with a walk-in larder. There was no separate loo and no central heating. In the kitchen was a very old coal-fired boiler which I gathered heated the hot water and the only other heating in the house was a coal fire in the sitting room that seemed to emit more smoke than warmth. The back garden faced north-east so it was never bright and sunny. All in all I wondered, even at that young age, why on earth Mum and Dad had bought this awful dreary house.

Within a short time of moving in Mum, Tina and I were very busy decorating. Yes, you did read that correctly! My Dad, bless, was no decorator, and unless you wanted your wallpaper hung upside down or with the pattern mis-matched, and drips of gloss running down the doors, you didn’t ask him to help. Ray was far more interested in being out and about with his friends, so it was up to us girls to get stuck in. Mum was a dab-hand at everything d.i.y. and from when Tina and I could just about walk she had taught us all she knew. She had so much patience and would spend hours teaching us how to prepare surfaces for painting, how to hold a paintbrush and put just enough gloss paint on so that it covered but did not run. There she was with her beautifully manicured nails and her exquisitely styled hair, full make up and happy as a sandboy, she’d be up and down ladders, painting, wallpapering and even stripping and painting furniture. Mum was fantastic with colours and her interior design flair soon brightened every inch of the house. All the dark wallpapers had gone replaced by bright light modern colours. It was a total transformation and the neighbours kept popping round to ask Mum’s advise. She missed her calling there I think, she should have set up in business and she’d have done so well.

From the moment we moved in I felt that there was a lot going on spiritually speaking. Both Tina and I were becoming more and more aware of energies in our bedroom at night. I would get myself under the covers and not dare to peek out because I just knew ‘someone’ was in the room and would be covered in goosebumps, no matter the actual temperature. Stupidly I had thought that now the house was brighter I would feel more at ease. I suppose thinking about it now, why would the colour of the wallpaper or the curtains make one jot of difference to a spirit!

What didn’t help either was that Dad would often go upstairs and sit on his own in the bedroom he and Mum shared. If you walked past the door you could hear him having a one-sided conversation (not that Tina and I would ever stand there and listen intentionally!). It was all very odd and if we asked who he was talking to he would make some excuse not to answer. It was only many years later that he told us that he would be talking to his twin sister Mary, who had died when he was five, and he also had regular chats with his Father-in-law, Ray (Mum’s Dad), who had passed to spirit before Tina and I were even born. Mum was exploring her religious beliefs and spirituality and among other religions that she dabbled with, was off to spiritual meetings and circles whilst we lived there, so no wonder the house was busy with spirit energies!

I remember one particular Saturday afternoon. Dad was sitting watching sport on the tv and I was going to go upstairs to collect a book to read. As I went to go up the stairs I was suddenly covered in goosebumps and I froze, I called to Dad and explained that I had gone all whooshy. To try to put me at my ease he explained that if there was anything on the stairs, our dog, Belle (a beautiful Saluki) would know about it. He went and brought her out from the sitting room. She too froze at the bottom of the stairs and with her heckels up began to growl. Dad said she had picked up on my fear and put her back in the sitting room and went and got Perky, our cat, who was curled up by the boiler, and put her on the bottom of the stairs too. There was no way she was going to go upstairs either! She quickly ran back into the kitchen. Dad walked up the stairs with me and as we almost got to the turn near the top the hairs on every inch of my body were standing on end and I was what I now term ‘mega-whooshy’. As soon as we reached the landing the feeling began to subside.

The bathroom was very busy, spiritually speaking, I often felt ‘someone’ was in there, even in the bath I would be going whooshy! Looking back I suppose I should have asked who it was, but at such a young age I never thought to do that. All of the family saw someone walk into the bathroom on many occasions and we also used to see the towels lifted off the towel rail, which became quite a common occurrence! I soon learnt that the best way to deal with all the odd feelings I had was to imagine a transparent bubble surrounding me that nothing could penetrate. No-one ever told me to do this, it was purely instinctive, and throughout my whole life it is something I have often done without even really thinking about it. I always feel amazingly safe in my bubble of protection.

Over the years in Twickenham the whole family saw and felt spirit energies both in the house and just outside in the garden. Sometimes just one of us would experience something but often it would two or more of us at the same time. We would all be sitting eating our lunch in the dining room and often see someone walk past the french doors, which was impossible as it went nowhere. To begin with Dad would go outside to see who it was, but after several sightings we all just took it as ‘normal’ and would acknowledge whoever it was and carry on with our meal. I always knew someone was about because I would experience my whooshy feeling even before anyone else said anything. I didn’t mind too much when we were all together, but I didn’t like it at all when I was in the house on my own, which I would try to avoid as much as possible.

Since that time I have learnt that when I feel the whoosh it is my very own spiritual radar working. It has never been wrong. It works in many different ways now. I suppose as I’ve grown older, it has been fine-tuned. If I am giving a demonstration of spirit and am not sure who the recipient is, it has come in very handy. For example, say I have an elderly gentleman trying to connect with someone, as I start giving evidence I am never sure who it is for. If someone tries to accept the message and I don’t experience the ‘whoosh’ I know the message is not for them, but the moment the right recipient acknowledges the spirit, from my feet up I feel the ‘whoosh’ rushing right up through my body, and I know it is right. It’s also very useful when I have been sitting in church, or in a circle, and someone tries to place a spirit reading with me. They may say ‘I have your Dad with me’ and if I feel nothing I know they haven’t, but if I feel the whoosh I know they have.

As most of my friends are mediums or healers, we do have some, shall I say, rather strange conversations at times. We chat about our experiences with spirit and some of them are really quite incredible, and some are almost unbelievable. Many people, I am sure, had they been eavesdropping, would think ‘what a load of rubbish’, and I must admit on occasions I have found some things hard to swallow. Even as I am sometimes recounting some of the wonderful and weird occurrences that I have been witness to, or been involved with, I am sure others must just have at least the slightest inkling that I am exaggerating! I have sat listening to the most amazing stories and have been covered in goosebumps and just know that what I am being told is true. I feel I am so fortunate to have my own lie-detector on board and what is even better is that I can show people too! It doesn’t matter, even if I’m sitting in warm sunshine, if I get the whoosh, I am covered in goosebumps. It is a wonderful way of proving that I am receiving a ‘signal’. At other times friends will ask my advise, and if they give me alternative solutions to their problems I will feel the whoosh when they mention the correct course of action for them to take. The whoosh then becomes like spiritual shorthand. As I said, it has been fine-tuned, and I can’t imagine my life without it now.

I was sitting chatting to two friends, Niki and Sharon, last week and we were discussing how, after we had passed into spirit ourselves, we would be able to give the kind of evidence to a medium so that our friends and loved ones would absolutely know it was us. For Sharon we said that she could say she had an affinity with wolves, had a phoenix tattoo and enjoyed karaoke. That would certainly be Sharon! For Niki, we all agreed on the description of big hair (Niki naturally has lots and lots of very curly hair) and her favourite saying which is ‘I don’t know’. I think we would know that was Niki without too much of a problem. For me, I had to laugh, Sharon said there was just one word that would guarantee it was me. The word? Whooshy!!

I had never taken much of an interest in angels and had never seen anything like an angel until last summer when I was particularly unwell. I was going through a very bad phase health wise and was feeling despondent because I had optimistically booked a five-day residential mediumship course with the Accolade Academy at Margam in Wales. I was so ill I really thought that I wouldn’t be able to cope with the journey there, never mind actually manage the course.

Only a few days before I was due to go away, I was talking with my friend Martha McKinnon, a gifted medium and healer who I have known for several years. I was telling her how disappointed I was that I would be unable to attend the course and how another friend was on standby to take my place. Martha very kindly offered to give me healing. Now Martha lives in Scotland and I am in Hampshire, so we are not at all close geographically, in fact it is over 430 miles, but Martha said this would make no difference. We arranged for me to lie on my bed at 9pm and that she would text me when she had started and would text again when she was finished.

I laid on the bed and to be honest wasn’t expecting to feel anything at all. I didn’t hear Martha’s text arrive, so just closed my eyes and relaxed. I was immediately aware of a presence around me and was sure I could hear people softly talking, but I didn’t open my eyes because I was a little wary of what or who I might see! I felt a wonderful sense of love and warmth surrounding me and in a strange way my body felt unbelievably light. It was a very lovely feeling. I must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing I knew was that I was waking up and seeing that it was exactly an hour since I had laid down.

I was going to get up and make a cup of tea but somehow felt I should carry on lying there until I heard from Martha. I was just lying on the bed looking at the ceiling when I saw a small bright light above me. As I looked closer I could see that in the light was a small face. I couldn’t believe my eyes and sat up to take a closer look. The face was surrounded by a soft golden light and then I saw what I can only describe as waves of what looked like downy feathers encircling the face. I watched as it moved slowly across the ceiling and then disappeared. I was stunned. I had never seen anything like it before. Then I noticed another light across the room, and again there was a small face, surrounded by the same golden light and downy feathers and it too drifted across the ceiling and then faded. This happened twice more.

By now I decided I really did need that cup of tea and checked my phone to see if Martha had sent a text. She had, but only the one before she had started the healing, and I realised then that I hadn’t heard it because my phone was on mute. The text read: ‘The healing has left my hands darling, and it’s now in the hands of the angels! I’m being told that they are working with you right now, so lie still for another wee while honey and you will feel so much better soon! But don’t worry cos you will known when it’s time to move about ok? Let me know how you feel later darling.’

My goodness, I couldn’t believe it! I really wondered if what I had seen had been tiny angels and there was Martha’s text confirming that she had left my healing in the angels hands. I couldn’t wait to tell Martha and rang her. She said she wasn’t at all surprised. I was amazed, not just with the angels I had seen, but by how very small they were. If someone had asked me to describe an angel I would have assumed that they were at least our size or larger. Martha told me that she felt they came in all sizes! The next day I was over the moon when I felt better than I had in months and the feeling of energy running through me was incredible. I had to tell my friend on standby that I would be able to go on the course after all. I know she was disappointed as she was looking forward to the possibility of going herself, but she was also really pleased that I was feeling so well.

Several months passed and I had not been aware of any angels again until one evening I was lying down and about to begin a healing meditation. I saw a haze of the deepest purple surrounding me and then saw a small golden glow down to my right. When I looked closer the glow became more and more intense and then there, right in the middle of it, was a very small angel looking up at me with arms outstretched towards me. It could have only been about two or three inches high and again I was amazed at how tiny it was. It glowed brighter and brighter and then began to fade. I felt a wave of disappointment as I saw it vanish before my eyes only to then be delighted to see another glow appearing to my left. Sure enough another little angel appeared and then faded followed by another and another. In all there were six of them this time. I just laid on the bed in awe of what I had just seen. I am sure that they came to assist in my healing. It does seem that’s when these little souls arrive.

I remember verses that I had ‘received’ one morning back many years ago. I had woken and heard the words but then as I went about my morning routine I had forgotten them. The next morning as I awoke I was given the words again and I wrote them down. I have no idea who gave them to me, only that it was a soft gentle voice.

The Touch of An Angel

It is only when I close my eyes, that I can truly see, the need in the world and the joy there should be.

It is only when I close my eyes and sit quiet and still, that I hear the whispers of nature, a birds gentle trill.

It is only when I close my eyes and sit quiet and still and empty my mind, that my heart starts to fill.

In a world without form, without these senses we share, I find total peace and feel utter care.

Aware of my soul, the essence of me, there is only one truth, that whatever shall be.

As pure as true love, without fault or shame, there is compassion and truth and no-one to blame.

High in the heavens, as I travel through light, an angel appears, surreal and so bright.

He touches my soul, and repairs all my pain, with a spark of the Divine, I feel whole once again.

I return to this place, with my energies renewed, to complete my life’s work, to assist all of you.

As I open my eyes and hear the noise of this life, I fill my mind with everything that I am as a Mother and wife.

But deep in my soul, throughout every day, I know there’s an angel, just a moment away.

Strangely the words appear to be written in the first person, but I feel that they are for everyone, to enable us to gain an understanding of how easy it is to connect with angels. It was over ten years later, last summer, that I first felt any type of connection with angels at all, but they do say that there is no time in the spirit world, so I am sure one of my lessons is to learn to be patient!

I’m looking forward to my next angel encounter …. no matter how long I might have to wait!

Simon and I went down to North Devon a couple of weekends ago. I used to live there and sometimes feel a real longing to drive along familiar country roads and walk along a typical sandy Devon beach and feel the fresh sea air on my face. I have a friend who lives just outside Barnstaple, Susan Roberts, I have mentioned her in my blogs before. She set up and runs the English Psychic Company, and she was my first real teacher of mediumship. She ran a tight ship and accepted nothing but the best. My evenings in her classes were a mixture of trepidation and relief. She set such high standards and expected nothing less of us, her pupils. She wouldn’t even accept you on a course until you had passed a test to prove that you had some potential, and that was nerve-wracking in itself.

I first met Susan after my Mum had died and I had heard her (Mum, not Susan!) talking to me in the loo, always late at night. The first time it happened I thought it was my imagination, but immediately as I thought that Mum told me it wasn’t. I came out of the loo and didn’t tell anyone what had just happened as I was sure they would think I was crazy. The following night, just before bed, again in the loo, Mum talked to me again, I told her that I was sure she was a wishful thought and again she told me she wasn’t. Well if you are real, I said, make the lights go on and off. To my utter amazement, the lights flickered! You have never seen anyone move so fast out of the loo! This happened for several nights. Nothing at all in the daytime, but come my last visit to the loo, there would be Mum. I didn’t see her, but I could feel her presence, her warmth and love, and I could hear her voice, definitely hers, not mine, but inside my head.

During the day I was so sad, missing my Mum so much, but feeling quite mixed up knowing that in the evening there would be this very odd form of contact. I tried to reason with myself that the whole thing was just too bizarre and to be honest I often felt that I was losing the plot. It was a secret I kept to myself. Part of me dreaded going to the loo because I was quite afraid, but another part would be looking forward to the comfort that I felt every night knowing that Mum was ok and was still around.

After a week or so I decided I really should do something about all of this. Ever since I was a very young child I had been aware of spirits, of energies around me, of knowledge that from my earthly life I shouldn’t’ or couldn’t have known, but this was very different, I had never had an ongoing communication with someone who I had known and loved before.

I had met a spiritual healer, Liz Gilmour, at a local spiritual fayre a couple of years before and had kept her business card in my purse. I felt sure that she would know of someone locally I could go and see to try to find out what was going on. I rang Liz and without telling her any information at all I asked if she knew of anyone who could communicate with spirits. Without hesitation she recommended Susan Roberts. She told me that Susan had an excellent reputation and was very down to earth. I rang Susan straight away and made an appointment which was for a week later. She asked me to bring along a photo of the person I would ideally like to get in contact with, but she said she couldn’t always guarantee that that person may communicate. Apart from that she didn’t ask me anything else at all. Part of me was so excited to be seeing a professional medium and the other part was absolutely terrified. I had no idea what to expect and kept feeling the biggest butterflies in my tummy every time I thought about it.

Eventually the day of the reading arrived and with an enormous amount of trepidation I went along to see Susan. It was such a relief to be welcomed by a ‘normal’ woman who immediately put me at my ease. She showed me into her sitting room which spookily overlooked a graveyard, I remember thinking how funny that was. I showed her the photo I had taken along and straight away Susan told me it was a photo of my Mum who had died three weeks before, She told me about Mum’s illness and how she had died. Then, much to my amazement, and laughing as she told me, she said that Mum had been talking me in the loo! Everything Susan told me was absolutely accurate. I skipped out of her house and driving home felt so uplifted and positive totally knowing that my Mum had been chatting to me.

I had no idea at the time that I would again be in contact with Susan within a few weeks. My brother Ray died totally unexpectedly just six weeks after my Mum. He was only fifty and was found in his bed at home. At the time we had no idea how he had died or what was the cause of his death. I spoke to Susan just days after Ray died, as again I was sure I could feel him close to me. She gently started to explain that it was most probably too early for him to be able to make contact, but as she spoke I could sense her hesitating. She asked if a red tricycle meant anything to me. It certainly did. As I said yes she started receiving more evidence from Ray. She told me exactly how he had died and most importantly for me, that he had felt no pain. She told me that his heart had literally just stopped. That he was here one minute and gone the next. Just like that. No pain at all. I was so relieved as I had been concerned that he would have been distressed. Sure enough when we received the results of his autopsy it confirmed that his heart had just stopped and that his passing to spirit would have been instant.

Over the years I have been fortunate to have met several wonderful mediums who have given me the most fantastic evidence and messages from those I have lost. I do think that if I hadn’t met Susan at such a difficult time in my life I would have been very doubtful, but she was so accurate with everything she said that she gave me confidence to explore the amazing world of spirit both as a medium myself, being able to give comfort to those missing their loved ones, and as someone myself so pleased to hear from those I love who are in spirit.

I have absolute confidence in Susan and when she told me that over the years she had been contacted by several spirits who wanted their experiences of death heard by a wider audience, I could appreciate why they had chosen her to tell their stories. She had written their stories exactly as she heard them, and over a long period had built up quite a selection. Spirits contacted her from all walks of life with very different stories to tell. She decided to bring the stories to the stage and called the production The Afterlife Monologues. Several of her students took the roles of the spirits and spoke in the first person, recounting their memories. I was intrigued and was so sad when I was unable to attend the first time it was on at a theatre in Devon. It was by pure chance just a couple of months ago that I asked Susan is she was thinking of putting on another production. She said that one was planned for the end of March. That was wonderful news! I could go and walk along the beach, see some old friends, and go and see the Afterlife Monologues all within a long weekend. I booked the hotel straight away and Simon booked the time off work. We were so lucky with the weather. Our journey from our home in Hampshire was just beautiful. We stopped by a field of new-born lambs, watching them running and playing, then found a country pub where we enjoyed a fantastic lunch on a sunny roof terrace. It couldn’t have been better.

We met Susan at her premises and sat near the back so that we could see everything. The stories from the spirits were just incredible, The readers were amazing and bought the stories to life. You really felt they were telling their own experiences. When we spoke to some of the readers in the break they said that they could feel the emotions of the spirits whose stories they were reading, which was certainly conveyed to us in the audience. Simon, who I had thought may find it all a little boring, actually really enjoyed the evening. Afterwards when we were sitting having a drink in the bar in the hotel he was asking so many questions about spirit. Far more than he ever has in the years we have been together. I believe that the moving and realistic way in which the experiences were bought to life really made his mind open up to the reality of our ongoing lives in our spiritual form. I do hope that one day Susan will make a dvd of these stories so that an even wider audience can experience these for themselves.

I do think that one thing that so many of us find so hard to talk about is physical death. It is a subject that many people avoid as they say it is depressing and also of course many find the whole thing terribly frightening too, which is understandable. It is though, the one thing that we all know for sure will happen to us at some time, yet most of us are totally unprepared for it. We are also unprepared for the death of a loved one. It is almost taboo to talk about such things unless you are talking to an insurance salesman or a solicitor who is drawing up wills.

I know that when my parents and my brother all died within less than four months I wouldn’t have been able to cope without the certainty that their spirits, their souls, still existed. It was largely thanks to Susan and her spiritual communications that I could manage to get through those dark days. I was talking to her after my Dad had died, telling her how very sad I was and how much I missed him. She told me something I will never forget. She said that whilst we are all so upset here for losing someone we love, at the same time there are massive celebrations in the spirit world as that person is being reunited with loved ones who have passed before. She said to imagine that my Dad was on a ship, leaving the shore, waving to me as he went, but when the ship completed its journey, he would reach another shore where his Mum and Dad and his brothers and sisters would be waiting to greet him. I thought of that many times over the years, knowing how pleased Dad would have been to see his family and in particular his twin sister Mary again, knowing how much he missed her throughout his life.

We had a wonderful time back in North Devon. I did manage to walk along my old local beach and enjoyed feeling the warm sand between my toes, breathing in the crisp clear air. We drove down many winding country lanes, shared lovely times with old friends and Simon took some great photographs. What a great mini-break we had, and how delighted I was to have been able to see the Afterlife Monologues. I know the stories and experiences of those spirits will stay with me always.